Manners
by Enaid Aderyn
Summary: If you can't say something nice, don't say anything. And then take 'em out with a fireball.


_Dragon Age belongs to BioWare, and it is indeed courteous of them to share it._

Manners

"To my mind 'tis a pointless waste of breath."

"Why does that not surprise me?" muttered Alistair, shooting Morrigan a look of dislike.

"I think it's sweet," declared Leliana. "I don't believe I've ever heard Sabhya utter a discourteous word. He certainly can win people over."

Unwillingly, Morrigan remembered how the little mage's first action upon awakening in her mother's hut was to thank her for saving his life. It had been remarkably...disarming. She squelched the thought as irrelevant.

"Pointless, I say. Particularly as it invariably leads to some drawn out tale of woe, which he is too polite to cut short, followed by yet another importunate demand which he is too polite to refuse. The man would say, 'Pleased to meet you' to a darkspawn if 'twere not attempting to gut him."

"Oh, really?" Alistair raised his eyebrows. "I seem to recall an importunate demand of your own. Which nearly got us all killed, I might add." He met her glare for glare, determined not to forgive the whole oh-did-I-forget-to-mention-my-mother-can-turn-into-a-dragon thing. Morrigan folded her arms and lifted her chin.

"'Twas a different situation altogether," she said loftily.

Over at the campfire, Sabhya carefully poured out some tea and set it aside to cool before leaning in to turn the grouse, firelight gleaming from his shaven head. The dog lay nearby, his pretended disinterest betrayed by a steady stream of drool. Alistair inhaled deeply, empathizing with the animal. Morrigan's last comment but one reminded him of something.

"No, what bothers me is how he always yells, "Excuse me, stand down or die" before we can attack. I mean, what is that? An apology or a battle cry? And it always alerts the enemies. That's not good, right?" He appealed to Sten, who looked back impassively.

"Facing the enemy head-on is always honorable," the giant responded. Leliana tittered and Morrigan cast her eyes upwards.

"It's true, friend Alistair," Zevran sighed, a sardonic gleam in his eye. "It is terribly inconvenient the way he draws the enemies' attention to himself. I find it so difficult to choose where to strike amongst all the exposed backs." The assassin's gaze wandered over their leader, musing as to how far Sabhya's accommodating nature might extend in an intimate setting. Perhaps he should couch his campaign of seduction as a personal quest? That should guarantee an affirmative response...

Leliana giggled.

"You're still upset because he scolded you for shoving past him so many times in the caverns," she said mischievously. Alistair flushed.

"He didn't _scold_ me! He just...mentioned..." _Maker!_ It had been Sister Anuncia all over again. He shuddered.

Leliana tapped her chin. "You know, for a man so concerned with etiquette and personal space, he's remarkably ready to throw a fireball or a lightning bolt."

"You mean after he yells, "Ex-"

"Yes, yes," she waved Alistair off. "It's just surprising to me Sabhya would even use that kind of magic at all." She looked expectantly at Morrigan, who ignored her. Wynne, who had been blatantly eavesdropping behind an open book, cleared her throat.

"He revised the spells." At Leliana's questioning look, she set the book down and pursed her lips. "All of his offensive spells incorporate the Tevinter rune _Erruhmhm,_ which may be loosely translated as 'with apologies.'"

"You're having me on."

"Not at all," Wynne retorted. She reached for her book again. "It's really quite brilliant of him to be able to do that without changing the essential nature of the spells," she added vaguely.

In the ensuing silence in which the group digested this information, Zevran noticed Sabhya patiently waiting to catch someone's eye. "It would appear that our feast is prepared," he commented, raising a hand in acknowledgement.

"Excellent!" Alistair rose eagerly. "You know, it was actually my turn to cook tonight. Say what you will, it was really nice of Sabhya to offer, especially when he loves my lamb stew so much."

Five pairs of eyes turned on Alistair in blank disbelief.

"What? He always finishes everything on his plate!"

The others waited in attitudes ranging from amusement to exasperation.

"What?" Then the copper dropped. "Oh. Right. Well, anyway..." Morrigan snorted and returned to her own small fire. Somewhat crestfallen, Alistair followed the others. He glanced at Sabhya, who was sipping his now-cooled tea with little finger genteelly raised, then did a double-take.

Where the hell does he find _napkins_ out here?


End file.
